How to Eat an Elephant: Bit-by-Bit
~Spiwo
So the second week of our trip in Guguletu has been up, down, sideways and diagonal. It has been happy, sad, joyous, depressing, and mixture of everything. So I am going to try what I did for my first paper and describe the 6 senses of a human being. The whole home stay experience was everything and more! It was warm hearted, welcoming, thoughtful, and conversational. And many other things including they treated us like family, fed us like plenty of food, and gave us so much hospitality. The food, the new friends, the new family, the food parcels, and the fantastic experiences all over the emotional map.
The smells: The week was a combination of urine, yeast in bread, curry, chicken, rice, trash, musty, moldy, and a strong smell of antiseptic during the hospice visits. My nose was confused because the smell was so dank uncomfortable from last week’s ocean air and seagulls aroma. It just seems that these smells should not be in the same area. People should not have to live in these conditions that lead to mud and mold in their houses, shacks. No one should have to live in a shack. No one.
Taste: This week we had been having the best lunches and dinners at JL Zwane. It was a buffet of deliciousness. Which at times was hard to eat, when people living blocks away have not eaten for 24 hours or cannot afford to feed their 5 children. A few of the culinary aromas and recipes I wanted to bottle up were rice, spicy potatoes, chicken, milk tart, fat cooks, curry, mango juice, tea, and coffee, bacon, and eggs. All yummy foods that I wish I could take back with me. Going back to compare the first week: Riverview’s food is decent, but now having this traditional African food and substantial breakfasts is totally opposite of what we had at Riverview. It is also interesting because I felt like Riverview was trying to make us food that would let the feeling of being at home with American food. They did a pretty good job, but it is an interesting contrast.
Sight: I saw so many things that my mind could not wrap itself around. Seeing people live in little boxes that they called home made me feel continually sad. It was hard to think of going back to my apartment with a bathroom inside, a bed for one person, and only 4 people in a space that is 4 times the size of the shacks. Dogs with no leg or no ear were a common sight. Mud puddles for a road, no bigger than a sidewalk. I saw one house with one bed for 3 people to fit in with a TV and a dresser. Simple lives that people are satisfied with, but sometimes have no food. Watching families on the food parcel day line up for their pile of ingredients was heartbreaking. It was hard, but exciting to see people be excited to get their food, I have never been that excited to get food ever. I was realizing I should not take my food for granted or to have someone cook it for me.
In some families the children would cook for the parents because the parents were sick, or the eldest child would cook for the rest of the children because the parents are deceased. Children laughing, crying, singing, and saying “ulunga” which means white person, was a common occurrence this week also. Being the minority this week was something I never thought I would experience. Kids would chase us and take pictures, want to be in pictures with us, and wanted to know if we knew any celebrities. The singing at church was breathtaking and full of power and strength. It was astounding. We went back to church yesterday because I wanted to hear more singing. At each house party for dinner each night of the week, someone would sing or the radio would be turned on. Sometimes the mood of the music was the soundtrack of our visits. Children at the Rainbow after school program were loud but it was refreshing to see some kids, I have been missing my sisters this week so that help.
Touch: Soft blankets on a warm bed at Titi’s house, more than seven hugs a day by complete strangers, which I love. Touching stories by people so open to share their life stories to a large group of students. The community feeling really came out and it was real. I felt like part of the family and it was confirmed our last night, Thursday night, when Zukile told us we are part of the family now and are always welcome back in their homes. That is when the waterworks started, and then we started singing and dancing. When we were served food at JL Zwane or at the home stays, everything was clean and shiny.
Intuition: new face book friends that I will stay in contact with for sure, family community and I will miss my host family like my real family, the community dynamic is stronger than I have ever seen it anywhere. They share resources such as food and rides to work. The food parcel day really showed the community aspect, but I felt so guilty putting them together and knowing that some people might not get food parcels off the list. People were grateful to receive food parcels and thankful for the help to carry them outside. On the outside Guguletu looks happy and friendly, but on the inside the issue that plague this community have to be tackled bit by bit.
Being in Cape Town the first week and Guguletu the second week has been such a contrast of lifestyles and values. It has been an eye opening, emotional but inspiring week in Gugs. They are two very different places and you would almost think they are not in the same country. Cape Town is full of colorful people and students and working class people. 99% of Guguletu is a black community and all ages are running around living their lives. One of the hard things for me was to see their shacks be about the size of a dorm room for up to 7 people. Seeing them adapt and live in situations that seem so simple, but yet cramped and unbearable was difficult for me.
But the inspiring part was to see the joy and happiness at dinner when all of us were at Noxi’s, Toto’s, or Titi’s house and have us eat a Thanksgiving like meal every night was heartwarming and encouraging. If I were in this situation and had a party every night, I would be in my room on my bed crying. Watching these people push through the hunger, grief of death and dying, sickness, the long commutes to work was making me tired. I would not be able to live my life like that. One other thing that gets me is that when we leave, those people do not go away or get erased; they will still be there when I land back in Minneapolis airport. I am grateful for this experience and could talk to someone for hours about it and they would still not know what I felt or know how to replicate the moment when we gave Kwanele the card for “These numbers have faces.”
One thing I was surprised at but open to was the host families. That first hug from Titi was one of the best hugs I have gotten in a while. This family was so open and willing to share their lives with the students and their life story. It wasn’t perplexing the fact that people were willing to share that much but that some of the stories were so deep and saddening. My other thought is the guilt part of it and my obstacle of getting past it and finding a way to reflect on the “Now What” piece of leadership. I am struggling with how to spread awareness of Guguletu and its issues. Here is where the title of my paper comes in, How to Eat an Elephant, is little bit by bit.
Spiwo said this on Friday, and it hit a chord in my leadership mind. The hunger issue cannot be fixed overnight; it is a sustainable aspect and a nutritional nightmare. None of these issues can be fixed overnight and people think that donating money online will actually end up in someone’s wallet for grocery money. I do not know any stats of how much aid does end up in their pockets, but I feel like it is not that much. And that the money could go to alcohol or drugs is also a question. So my temporary answer is educating people here and in the United States about the stigmatism attached to poverty, AIDS, and the townships. Each issue is a part of the pie and contributes to the reasons why South Africa needs attention from people. And it is not attention is to take the time and read articles on the townships and come visit the beautiful mountain, but spend a day or two at JL Zwane or hospice visits. Medical care is not what it should be and if my mom were here or my grandpa could see how people are getting treated for their ailments, I would hope that we could set up a partnership to have a team of medical personnel.
I am extremely grateful and lucky to have had this experience. And it is not over yet. I am working on not feeling guilty, but thinking of them and listening to the story. Not forgetting this and writing down the details of each story to retell it to my friends and family at home is how I am going to share and reflect on my experience. I just cannot believe the differences between Cape Town and Guguletu, fifteen minutes apart and a world of poverty, family, and the strength of a community to pull through the reality of HIV and poverty.
